Review: Django Unchained (2012)

It's easy to think of Django Unchained as the second in a loose trilogy of historical revenge fantasies. But to me it feels more like the second of Tarantino's all-out blaxploitation films, closer in spirit to a followup to 1997's Jackie Brown than 2009's Inglourious Basterds. In Jackie Brown, a sweet-natured white bail bondsman named Max Cherry helps Pam Grier out of a tough spot; in Django, the helpful white man is the well-spoken bounty hunter, Dr. King Schultz (played with courteous glee by Christoph Waltz), who frees Jamie Foxx's Django and sets him on a path to kill as many white slave owners as he can. In both films, the honorable white man is portrayed as a selfless servant to the lead black character, and at the end of each film nothing is owed. These pale-faced assistants do what they do out of love of the black characters, and they always keep a half-step away from asking anything in return.

There are several issues one could take with a film of this nature. First of all, who does Tarantino think he is, doling out all this historical justice on behalf of minorities? Additionally, doesn't it make Tarantino more than a little disingenuous to ostensibly defend black people while at the same time fully exploiting their pain and torture? And finally, isn't it discourteous to reality to fictionalize and embellish where the truth might be dramatic enough?

Well, you know--if you want to take such positions, I can't stop you. Nor can I say you're especially wrong.

But I do think you'd kind of be missing the point.

The truth is, the truth isn't good enough, and it never will be. We can never go back and undo what has been done by history. We can't actually take a machine gun and fill Hitler full of holes. Nor can we jump off a horse, take the whip from a cracker, and turn it against him. But, man--that's what dreams are for, and films can certainly be a canvas for such dreams. And if we can't relax and have a good time watching the fictionalized retribution against slave owners and Nazis that Tarantino has provided in his last two films, in what space can we let our rage loose?

And what fun this film truly is. Its first half is immaculate, and it puts Jim Croce's "I Got a Name" song to the best cinematic use I've ever seen. Later in the film, when Schultz brings up the point that Alexandre Dumas was black, I wish he'd go further. I wish he'd made that point that Dumas elected to take his last name from his slave grandmother. Because it's clear Tarantino has done his homework here. It's clear he knows things that most white men don't. There's such a rich, subtle sense of black history running through Django that it's hard to look back now on Inglourious Basterds without wishing Tarantino had half such a grasp on Jewish history.

Tarantino runs into the most trouble writing the female characters in Django. While Schultz and Django are on a mission to rescue Broomhilda from Leonardo DiCaprio's entitled plantation owner Calvin Candie, she is never much more than a German-speaking MacGuffin put in place to drive the plot by staying just out of reach. Worse still, she's not even the best of Tarantino's MacGuffins; she may glow just as brightly, but her character is less interesting than whatever was in the suitcase in Pulp Fiction. 

Which is why I think the thing that could most improve Django Unchained is a longer cut to flesh out some of the parts that feel too thin. It begs for the four-hour treatment, and I know the material is out there--the director and his stars have said as much, and on the official film soundtrack you can even hear some of the bits that didn't make it.

Still, Django Unchained remains a great work, and it represents Tarantino boldly doing what everyone else is afraid to do. Hell, a lot of people are even afraid to enjoy this kind of film (or even see it), let alone make a film like Django. I can only imagine the reaction had a black filmmaker helmed this thing. All this discomfort would no doubt manifest itself as outright fear. When Spike Lee made Do the Right Thing, Mookie couldn't even throw a trashcan through the window of a pizza parlor without inciting decades of controversy (and I don't think Spike Lee's made a film that strong or that angry since). It's no surprise to me that audiences somehow find a way to argue that Django's vengeance is too violent; what is a surprise is that a film like this has finally been made and has found enough of an audience to feel like it matters.

Frankly, I get giddy when I hear Django's own lines sampled in the euphoric mash-up of James Brown and 2Pac that plays over his assault on the Candieland plantation. In such ways, Django achieves a beautiful and metaphoric retaliation for more than just himself.

Despite its flaws, Django Unchained is a triumph. Black vengeance has another new name. Everyone who helped bring this one to life: you did the right thing. You threw, and you threw hard.

One last thing: if you, like me, think comments from a white guy about the depiction of race in another white guy's movie are of questionable value, allow me to point you in a better direction. The best comments I've read concerning Django Unchained's place in black cinema can be found at Big Media Vandalism. Their analysis is as good as it gets.


Film Stack Rating: 5/5 

Django Unchained is rated R, for pretty much every reason you could imagine.